欧宝娱乐

“The homemade pie has been under siege for a century, and surely its survival is endangered.”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“The preparation of food also serves the soul in a number of ways. In a general sense, it gives us a valuable, ordinary opportunity to meditate quietly, as we peel and cut vegetables, stir pots, measure out proportions, and watch for boiling and roasting. We can become absorbed in the sensual contemplation of colors, textures, and tastes as, alchemists of the kitchen, we mix and stir just the right proportions.”
― Thomas Moore

“Obesity rates are inversely correlated with the amount of time in food preparation. The more time a nation devotes to food preparation at home, the lower it's rate of obesity.”
― Michael Pollan, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation

“No one became a great cook just by reading the recipes.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“The moment I put it in my mouth and bit down...
... an exquisite and entirely unexpected flavor exploded in my mouth!
It burst across my tongue, rushed up through my nose...
... and rose all the way up to my brain!"
"No! It can't be!"
"How is that possible?! Anyone with eyes can see there's nothing special to that dish! Its fragrance was entirely inferior to Asahi's dish from the get-go!"
"That there. That's what it is. I knew something wasn't right."
"Asahi?"
"Something felt off the instant the cloche was removed.
His dish is fried rice. It uses tons of butter, soy sauce and spices.
Yet it hardly had any aroma!"
"Good catch. The secret is in one of the five grand cuisine dishes I melded together...
A slightly atypical take on the French Oeuf Mayonnaise. ."
"Ouef Mayonnaise, or eggs and mayonnaise, is an appetizer you can find in any French bistro. Hard-boiled eggs are sliced, coated with a house-blend mayo and garnished with vegetables.
Though, in your dish, I can tell you chose very soft-boiled eggs instead.
Hm. Very interesting, Soma Yukihira.
He took those soft-boiled eggs and some homemade mayo and blended them into a sauce...... which he then poured over his steamed rice and tossed until each and every grain was coated, its flavor sealed inside!
To cook them so that each individual grain is completely covered...
... takes incredibly fast and precise wok handling over extremely high heat! No average chef could manage that feat!"
" Whaaa?!
Ah! It's so thin I didn't notice it at first glance, but there it is, a very slight glaze!
That makes each of these grains of rice a miniature, self-contained Omurice!
The moment you bite into them, that eggy coating is broken...
... releasing all the flavors and aromas of the dish onto your palate in one explosive rush!"
No wonder! That's what entranced the judges. That sudden, powerful explosion of flavor!
"Yep! Even when it's served, my dish still hides its fangs. Only when you bite into it does it bite back with all it's got.
I call it my Odorless Fried Rice.”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 36 [Shokugeki no Souma 36]

“People would eat a boot if it was home made.”
― Elizabeth Bowen, The Collected Stories

“Beatriz breathed in the sweet aromas that lately appealed to her. Those at the forefront were of various honeys in the wooden honey pots anchoring the tablecloth: lavender, orange blossom, and eucalyptus. But the room was a cornucopia of visual and olfactory treats. Marcona almonds were roasting in Reuben's old wood oven, and from the kitchen downstairs wafted scents of all the spices they would be offering their customers fresh over the counter in cloth bags: cinnamon stalks, cloves, anise, ground ginger, juniper berries, finely grated nutmeg. Nora and Beatriz packaged all the spices themselves. They would also offer ribbon-tied bags of Phillip's tea creations served in the café: loose leaves of lemon verbena, dried pennyroyal, black tea with vanilla. All around the room, on the floor, shelves, and counters, were baskets and baskets and baskets of irresistible delights: jars of marmalades and honeys and pure, dark, sugarless chocolate pieces ready to melt with milk at home for the richest hot chocolate. Customers could even buy jars of chocolate shavings, to sprinkle over warmed pears and whipped cream, or over the whipped cream on their hot chocolates. They sold truffles white and dark, with or without rum, biscuits with every variation of nuts and spices, bars small or large of their own chocolate, and dried fruits dipped in chocolate.”
― Karen Weinreb, The Summer Kitchen

“Your jam puts store-bought to shame. As I ate it on a fresh croissant from the French bakery at the Farmers Market down the street from my house, I savored the image you painted with your words. I would love to spend a summer morning in the Pacific Northwest sunshine picking wild blackberries. I also crave your backyard access to crisp apples, plums, and pears, although I am not sure I would trade them for the grapefruit and oranges I pluck from my own trees for breakfast whenever I like.”
― Kim Fay, Love & Saffron

“The word 驳辞肠丑颈蝉ō not only means "feast," but also...
... "to run" or "rush." The host rushes around to gather the ingredients, get them ready, and then cook the food.
The vegetables and chicken were homegrown...
... and you must have sought out the halfbeak and quail yourself.
Miyasato sensei expended a lot of time and effort to treat us to this meal.
The dishes we had are all common ones so that we'd easily be able to compare them with versions we've eaten before.
For the wakame and green onion with miso, you pulled the onions out of your own vegetable patch, and you also used fresh wakame and homemade miso.
And that's why it tasted so much better than usual.
The care you've put into getting all these dishes ready...
... is what made this a real 驳辞肠丑颈蝉ō.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Japanese Cuisine

“The bell ringer’s green walnut liqueur was famous in Valetto for its ability to strip paint and dignity.”
― Dominic Smith, Return to Valetto

“Is there any more feudal, soul eradiating experience than standing before the little window on a microwave oven watching the carousel slowly revolve your frozen block of dinner? Time spent this way might be easier than cooking but it is not enjoyable & surely not ennobling. It is to feel spiritually unemployed, useless to self & humanity.”
― Michael Pollan, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation

“Y'know...
after that other dish a minute ago, this one tastes especially... I dunno... homey. It's a dish with a real human feel to it."
"I see monkfish meat, skin, fins and-
HM?!
Kogiku squash... Tachikawa burdock... and Akasuji daikon!"
"Y-yes, sir! All of those are veggies you can find in my hometown.
I wanted to show in my dish how good the veggies in my hometown are, so I tried a lot of different combinations... but curry spices are really powerful, and they didn't go well with a lot of the veggies' natural sweetness or bitterness.
I was stumped for a good long time, until I had the sudden thought that I could do a dobujiru for my dish. The monkfish liver in dobujiru could be a kind of bridge, allowing me to make the best of the curry spices while at the same time retaining all the natural tastiness of the veggies
And besides, I, um... I've handled monkfish since I was little anyway."
"Really?"
"I wanted to make a curry that reflected all the best of my hometown...
right down to the taste and smells!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 7 [Shokugeki no Souma 7]

“We'll start with oysters on the half shell and homemade salt-and-pepper potato chips, just to whet the appetites. Then a wedge salad with homemade ranch dressing and crumbled peppered bacon. For the main course, a slow-roasted prime rib, twice-baked potatoes, creamed spinach, tomato pudding baked into tomato halves, and fresh popovers instead of bread. For dessert, the world's most perfect chocolate cream pie.
Marcy and I went on a Sunday boondoggle to Milwaukee last year and had lunch at this terrific gastropub called Palomino, and while the whole meal was spectacular, notably the fried chicken, the chocolate cream pie was life changing for us both. Marcy used her pastry-chef wiles to get the recipe, and we both love any excuse to make it. It's serious comfort food, and I can't think of a better way to ring in the New Year.”
― Stacey Ballis, How to Change a Life

“Just because they were homey didn't mean they were ordinary. Most versions of this recipe relied on butterscotch chips, waxy little chunks of hydrogenated oil and synthetic butterscotch flavor. Bev's used malted milk powder and a truckload of butter, relying on the interaction between the oven's heat and the milk powder to give that toasty, caramelized flavor that suggested rather than screamed butterscotch. Melody's version also subbed brown sugar for some of the white with a healthy shot of molasses to add a deep, earthy note. At the last moment, she added some chopped hazelnuts from a little glass jar in the cabinet for extra texture and flavor.
Thoughts of Justin faded as she mixed and spread the batter, then slid the shallow jelly roll pan into the oven where it would bake into a sheet of butterscotchy, nutty deliciousness. When it came out dozens of minutes later, fragrant and golden brown, she inhaled the aroma, basking in her sense of accomplishment at a perfect result. There was nothing like taking basic ingredients and transforming them into something both beautiful and tasty.”
― Carla Laureano, Brunch at Bittersweet Café

“While I searched for Clothilde's ingredients, I found a few bottles of juniper eau-de-vie in the dry storage area, nestled among hundreds of glass jam jars filled with Grand-mère Odette's homemade compotes- fig, cherry, apple, strawberry, apricot, raspberry, pear, and peach.”
― Samantha Verant, The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux

“He'd plated one of the desserts in a beautiful glass bowl, complete with what he said was the homemade vanilla bean ice cream he'd made the previous night, and garnished the pear with the sauce, a cinnamon stick, sprigs of thyme, vanilla bean pods, and pomegranate seeds.
"The sauce?" I asked, dipping in my spoon.
"Vanilla bean seeds, red wine, sugar, and nutmeg," he said. "If there's anything I know, it's how to make sauces with wine."
I dipped my spoon in and tasted it. Oh my God, heaven on my tongue. I eyed him warily.
"You really do know sauces. I's simply delicious," I said. "But I taste a few more ingredients? Orange? Star anise? A dash or two of pastis, maybe?"
"Your palate is just like your grandmother's. I can never get anything past her either.”
― Samantha Verant, The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux

“So this is sweet. Some sort of fruit, right? Not just sugar."
She nodded. "Mango and peach."
He looked surprised. "No kidding." He tasted it again. "Got it. Now that you tell me, I can taste them. What kind of chilies?"
"Mostly fresno. A cherry pepper here, a poblano there. A little habanero." She hadn't gotten enough fresnos, so the truth was she just used everything she had. Fortunately she'd written it down. "Some honey too. Seasonings."
"But there's something I can't quite put my finger on." He tasted more than looked at his finger and said, "No pun intended."
She smiled. "Curry."
"Curry."
"Yup." She nodded. "I needed something to segue between the sweet and the savory and I thought of curry."
"It's incredible."
"Wow, you're actually selling me on my own sauce." She upended the bottle and put a few drops on her own finger. It was just as good as she'd remembered, exactly as he'd said, with the heat that snuck up and away. Suddenly her mind reeled with the possibilities. She could use it as the base for a barbecue sauce and start serving pulled pork on the menu. That, with the beer cheese, Aja's cheese soup, and the biscuits Margo had made, she had a theme developing suddenly.”
― Beth Harbison, The Cookbook Club: A Novel of Food and Friendship

“Homemade fudge sauce. Her favorite. She stuck her finger in it and sucked the chocolate off.
"There's ice cream in the freezer. YOLO-gurt, right?”
― Amy E. Reichert, The Kindred Spirits Supper Club

“Last night I baked the Jewish apple cakes, and each one came out moist and fragrant and dense, bursting with apples I caramelized with Calvados and a touch of rosemary and then folded into a vanilla-and-cinnamon-scented cake. We braised the brisket in a tomato sauce so rich and garlicky I can still smell it on my fingers, and the honey ice cream came out silky smooth and tastes like a spoonful of creamy honey, with crunchy chunks of honeycomb toffee.”
― Dana Bate, The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs

“she could sell in the café provisions she baked in her own time with a shelf life longer than pastries. When she thought of it there had been a rush of certainty she could do it, and a prickling of pride in having conceived a way to make money on her own. It would double at least what she was making now. Without Nicholas it might never had occurred to her. The other day he had stuck a label, which he had found in the junk drawer, on a plastic-wrapped loaf of banana bread. He wrote on the label with a marker, "From the Summer Kitchen Bakery." She had found the gesture adorable at the time and hugged him, but something about it had evidently started percolating in the recesses of her mind, and now she was lapping at the brew like someone tasting it for the first time and wondering how she had never before tasted such ambition. She was thinking of cellophane-packaged chocolate brownies and caramel blondies and orange-and-almond biscotti and pear and oat slices and butter shortbread and Belgian chocolate truffles, marmalades, chutney, relishes, and jellies beautified in jars with black-and-white gingham hats and black-and-white ribbon tied above skirted brims. She could even sell a muesli mix she had developed, full of organic cranberries and nuts and the zest of unwaxed lemons. And she wouldn't change Nicholas's label at all. A child's handwriting impressed that the goods were homemade. She would have his design printed professionally, in black and white, too, old world, like the summer kitchen itself.”
― Karen Weinreb, The Summer Kitchen

“We keep the home in homemade from the produce to the process and from preparation to presentation.”
― John Kresl

“The Kopper Kettle had a New Englander's fish and chips special that couldn't be beat. The clam chowder was thick, creamy, and stuck to his ribs. The blueberry pie was homemade.”
― Kate Angell, The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

“The egg rolls were time-consuming to make, but the bean sprout filling was cheap and tasty. Besides, a party just isn't a party without lumpia. Fried tofu braised with soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and peppercorns wouldn't exactly break the bank, and neither would the bitter melon and vegetable stir-fry. The mung bean stew was traditionally made with pork and topped with chicharon, but knowing Tita Rosie, she'd use some kind of pork substitute and leave the pork rinds on the side.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Arsenic and Adobo

“Eugenians are proud of the regional bounty and were passionate about incorporating local, seasonal, and organic ingredients well before it was back in vogue. Anglers are kept busy in fresh waters, fishing for wild chinook salmon in the spring and steelhead in the summer, and sweet Dungeness crab is abundant in the estuaries year-round. Local farmers gather every Saturday downtown to sell homegrown organic produce and honey, foraged mushrooms, and wild berries. The general demographic is of hippies who protest Whole Foods in favor of local co-ops, wear Birkenstocks, weave hair wraps to sell at outdoor markets, and make their own nut butter. They are men with birth names like Herb and River and women called Forest and Aurora.”
― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart

“Turning to the canvas bag, she pulled out a foil package. The smoky, buttery smell of naan made the different types of hunger coursing inside him mix together.
"Does your mom actually make naan at home?"
She opened the packet and held it in front of his nose, and he picked one up and shoved it in his mouth and almost died on the spot from the chewy, yeasty deliciousness.
"Mummy's made it since before homemade naan was a trend. My parents have always had an old-fashioned tandoor oven in the house. Because Dr. Kohli needs his naan and kababs." The brightness sparkling in her eyes dimmed.”
― Sonali Dev, The Emma Project

“Jasmine opened her fridge and pulled out cauliflower, an onion, garlic, tomato paste, crushed tomatoes and molasses.
"Are plant people for or against eating the plants?" Nina asked.
"I sure hope they're pro, because vegetarian is what's calling to me."
Nina watched Jasmine bread and bake the cauliflower, mash tomatoes in a pot with the garlic, spices and onion, then pan-fry a homemade tortilla. She piled the baked cauliflower onto the tortilla shell, then drizzled a healthy amount of the homemade salsa across the top.
She passed the plate to Nina and the aroma of the flavors mixing together reminded her of being outside in summer. She wanted to live on that plate. Nina picked up the taco and folded it, admiring the colors of the ingredients as they blended together like new paint on a fresh canvas. She smiled at the food. "Hello, gorgeous."
Then she smelled the taco---spice and lime---before taking a bite. Not only was each part of the dish cooked perfectly, but it also practically melted in her mouth.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“Just then, like a hot knife through butter, the unmistakable aroma of Alice's apple pie cut through the smell of grease in the kitchen. The scent of apples baking in butter, cinnamon, and sugar made our mouths water.
"What the hell is that?" Nate said in a trancelike voice.
"That is undoubtedly where Alice has been, making her mile-high apple pie, if I'm not mistaken," I said. Nate looked confused, so I pointed to the little room at the back of the kitchen. "In the bakery nook, which I guess you guys haven't been using since the restaurant no longer serves fresh bread, pies, and cobblers."
"Yes, that's where I've been," Alice said, joining us. "I decided something around here should be homemade. I found some apples in the office, and some flour and sugar, and whipped up something real.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, My Magnolia Summer

“Georgia held the jar up to the light, gazing at the dark golden color of the honey, remembering the buzzing of the bees, the fragrance of the apple orchard laced with the briny scent of the sea.
On impulse, she twisted the lid off the jar and swirled her finger through the honey. She licked it clean. She could just catch a hint of lavender in the creamy goodness. She scooped up another little dollop. Strange. Somehow, the honey tasted like love, like the answer to a question, like coming home.”
― Rachel Linden, Recipe for a Charmed Life

“Sour cream brownies, banana pie made with vanilla wafers, lemon poppy-seed pound cake, strawberry shortcake, almond-scented tapioca, pecan blondies (oh... my... God, those are good), butter brick ice cream with butterscotch, angel food cake with rhubarb compote, gingerbread with hard sauce, and on Saturday nights, peppermint ice cream sundaes topped with homemade hot fudge.”
― Sarah Strohmeyer, Sweet Love

“When the kids were growing and Frank was still in construction, I made sure all our meals ended with something sweet. Frank deserved it. Sour cream brownies, banana pie made with vanilla wafers, lemon poppy-seed pound cake, strawberry shortcake, almond-scented tapioca, pecan blondies (oh... my... God, those are good), butter brickle ice cream with butterscotch, angel food cake with rhubarb compote, gingerbread with hard sauce, and on Saturday nights, peppermint ice cream sundaes topped with homemade hot fudge.”
― Sarah Strohmeyer, Sweet Love